Magical girl
by schak
Summary: What better place is there for a magical girl than the battle of Hogwarts? (Even if this one is boy.) And what do Fred and George have to do with it?
1. Chapter 1

Smoke and dust obscured the view. Spells flashed through the air. It smelled like blood, fear and destruction. Who was a friend and who was foe was not always clear. He came with the simple mindset: all Slytherins are the baddies and the rest is good. This belief was shaken when one Slytherin from his old year had saved his head against a deatheater. With a sadistic smirk she informed him that 'not all snakes are poisonous bastards'. Since then they had lost each other again. He should invite her to a butterbeer or better a firewhisky when this is over.

Well, right now it looked more like a huge fat IF he survives this. It didn't look too good right now. To be exact it looked quite bad. In the last second Sam managed to get a shield spell up, before something nasty could hit him. He was alone against three deatheaters. For the first time he really registered that he could die here. When he heard about the battle at Hogwarts, he had turned up without thinking much. After one frustrated year of hiding and running away for being muggleborn he had been happy about the chance to kick some asses. He knew that he was not always on the bright side of the spectrum and a bit of the stereotype Gryffindor that charged in without thinking things through.

He ducks from a bright yellow curse in the last second, just to be nearly hit by another one. The smell of burned hair tells him that he either needs to visit a hairdresser soon or that he would die with a terrible haircut. His three opponents rapidly fire spells at him, most he doesn't even know, but sure doesn't want to find out what they do. He conjures a shield charm that is glowing with each impact. He feels how it grows weaker the longer he has to hold it up. He doesn't know when and what had hit him, but his leg stings terrible and his pants wetly stuck to it. His eyes fanatic scan the area in hope to find a way out, any way, but they are in one of the classrooms and the door behind his attackers. Only a couple more spells and he will be defenseless, he knows and he has the feeling they know too. He will not sit here and wait for that to happen. With a scream he breaks his charm and blows some of the tables in the fanatics faces. It could have worked, but it doesn't. One of them blocks the tables and another fires an disarming spell at him that he doesn't see, because the tables blocked his view. The spell hits him hard and makes him loses balance as his wand flies or of his hand. He falls on his butt and can only fearfully watch as the other two deatheater push the one in the middle towards him. That one had been the most insecure of the three. With disgust Sam realizes that he will be the first kill and initiation ritual for a deatheater hotshot wannabe. His hands search the ground for anything that could help him, as the black dressed bastard walks towards him and hesitantly lifts his wand. His hand finds a small stone and he throws it. As he does, he sees the ring on his finger and remembers how he got it.

He had been on the run, hiding in muggle London, keeping off the radar, but with an ear for any information about what was going on. It was pure dumb luck that he ran into the Weasley twins. They had shared a dorm for nearly seven years and he has been friends with them as well as an outsider could be. Sam had spent over half a year avoiding all that is magical and started seeing it as a threat. But those were the Weasley twins, if he could trust anyone not to turn into a deatheater it should be the Weasleys right? After a second deciding to run or not, he invited them to a pint in a muggle pub. He didn't regret it. For the first time since Voldemore's second terror regime, he heard about all acts of resistance that happened, telling him that not the whole magical community went crazy. They laughed and he learned about Lee's radio station. At the end they gave him the ring. It was a prototype that couldn't distinguish between friends and foe once activated. A little gadget they called 'last resort defence ring'. The words to activate it were:

"Never will I go down without a last fight against the evil!", he screams at his enemies.

With this the ring starts to glow and he losts some control over his body. He feels like a puppet whose strings are pulled. His hand with the ring lifts into the air a glancing light emits from it and himself. It looks like shiny ribbons come out of the ring wrap themselves around him. He feels himself levitate from the ground. His one leg bends in a strange way behind the other knee. His stretched hand lowers itself and together with the other hand forms a heart in front of his chest. He is shocked to hear himself shout:

"I will punish you for your evil doings in the name of love and justice!"

The heart his hands form glows pink and grows around him until it explode in sparkling glitter. The glowing ribbons seem to have found their final form. Sam is lowered back on his feet and looks around to analyze the situation. The three deatheaters have a relaxed stance and unfocused eyes. Classic signs that they were hit with a confusing curse, but they started to slowly come back to their senses. A look down on himself discloses that his jeans and shirt are gone and he now wears a light blue, remarkably ugly lace dress with a fur collar and a gigantic hat. He hears the twins in his mind telling him.

"The remarkable battle armor not only protects you from all kinds of cuts, but has some integrated small healing and vitality charms to make sure you are on top of your game."

His leg hurts less the than before. But before he can examine himself further his three opponents start to move again and his mouth shouts without his consent.

"Justice shall come upon you!"

From atop his hat he hears a croaky scream. The next moment he sees a rancid vulture takes flight from his hat at the three in front of him. It tries to scratch them with its claws and peak them where ever it can. The others twin's voice comes up in his mind.

"The self-controlled attack unit, follows you and will try to distract those you order it to attack."

"And lastly your close combat weapon. It is charmed to feel light in your hands, but will hit your enemies like a 50kg sledgehammer."

He recognizes a bright red handbag in his hands. For a moment he is confused, but he doesn't have time to wonder because one of foes got out of his confusion and shock and raises his wand at him. He takes aim and hit him with the handbag against the head. Once more he shouts without control.

"Feel the power of love!"

The man falls down and doesn't move anymore. The next one he ramps it in the stomach and then hammers it down on his back as he bends down. Before the last one could get rid of his vulture, Sam kicks him in between the legs and snatches the wand closest to him to disarm them and tie them up. For good measuring, he gives one of them a last kick to the rips.

He finally managed to take a relief breath. A laugh bubbled up in his throat. He was still alive, against any reason. Part of him wanted to sit down and let others deal with the rest, but the Gryffindor in him wouldn't let him. He took a peek under his dress and saw that he really wasn't wearing anything else, but some long underpants with lace ornaments on them. He took his wand back into his hand and the three extra wands he put in the handbag, which he had in his weaker hand. When he turned back to the door he remembered the last words the twins told him unison about the ring.

"And the most imported thing it gives you it motivation. And if you don't feel motivated by following the example of one of the bravest and most admirable Gryffindors alive that showed everybody that badassness is ageless, remember if you die is in this getup."

The vulture still peaked at the unconscious deatheaters, when he was near the door.

"Come... Justice. There is still a lot to do!"

The bird lost some feathers and if you look closer you could see that it was a transformed rubber chicken, but Sam didn't care as it landed back on his hat and he ran out of the door.

* * *

A.N. Harry Potter isn't mine.

Please leave a review and tell me what you think. Have a nice day.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwart's. Everybody who was important or thought him or herself important was here. There had been a huge banquet in the Great hall of Hogwarts. The house tables had been pushed aside to make room for this spectacular. Lots of small tables were placed outside to sit down to eat and talk. There were two or three stages with music around the grounds surrounding Hogwarts. Every magical music band wanted to play here today. The Golden Trio was probably surrounded by the huge cluster of people. Everybody who had fight for the right side was invited. The press had taking pictures with all of them. A memorial for the fallen heroes of that war was held and a monument with all their names was revealed.

Sam had caught up with some of his old friends, before he wandered off in hope to see George Weasley. He wanted to thank him for the ring that had saved his life. Even if he would never live down the embarrassment when a picture of him in that dress had been in the Daily Prophet the next day. The dress had been dirty. The handbag had some burn holes in it. The vulture looked like a plucked chicken. Sam himself was sleeping in the picture, exhausted from the fight. He couldn't count how many people had asked him were his dress was today and thought themselves funny. But never the less it had saved his life and he wanted to thank George for it. It didn't take long to find out that George had apparently left right after the memorial. Not that he could hold it against him. He had lost his twin and best friend that day at this place. It most hurt to be here, but as the brother of Ron Weasley he probably didn't had a change but to come for at least that part.

Sam was about to join another group of people he knew from work, when he spotted another familiar face. She sat at one of the bars and most people kept away from her. He stepped next to her.

"What can I get you to drink?" Toxica Burke, that was her name. He had looked her name up after the battle, but never got around to send her an owl. Her dark hair was pulled up and emerald earrings sparkled in the light.

"Fuck off." She didn't even turn her head. That hadn't been the answer Sam had expected.

"Why?" He was more surprised than offered by her harsh dismiss.

"Listen I don't want to be your 'good Slytherin girl' right now!" She spat the words out and emptied her shot of firewhisky. But she looked the part.

"Well, I'm not sure what you are talking about, but I wanted to thank you for having my back, back then." He felt awkward standing next to her. But his words seemed to get her attention because she finally turned her head around to him. Her dark eyes looked nearly black as she mustered him.

"You are the guy in the dress." She turned around completely. She thought for a moment before continuing. "You can get me a drink."

"What an honor…" A hint of sarcasm sneaked into his voice but he ordered two butterbeer nevertheless and sat down next to her. "So thank you, NOT the Slytherin good girl."

"I can't remember saving a guy in that ridiculous dress." She took a slip directly from the bottle.

"I wasn't that dress yet."

"You changed in the middle of everything?" She raised one of her too thin eyebrows.

"It's a long and strange story…"

"I have time." She answered.

"How about a deal I tell you about the dress and you tell me about not being the good Slytherin, because you sure look the part." And does she look the part. Her pointy nose and too thin eyebrows gave her the permanent arrogant look that you expect from Slytherins and with her emerald jewels and silver dress she showed her house colors for all to see.

"Fair enough. You start and next drink you buy is better a firewhisky."

And so he told her what happened one year ago. She didn't have the nicest laugh, not even close. It had a malicious glee in it, but it was still fun to sit with her and drink. They found a table for themselves a bit out of sight from most people.

"So yes that's how I got the dress." He finished his story.

"Interesting, but when exactly did I save your ass?" She was getting more drunk with the minute and she started to slur.

"That was before that you said something like 'not all Slytherins are venomous bastards'-" He stopped for a moment and looked at her in a confused way. "Your name is Toxica. They may not all be venomous but some are toxic."

"It took you one year to get that joke?" she snorted arrogantly. "I see, I'm here with a genius."

"Wow are you always a bitch?"

"Only when I'm not busy kicking puppies."

"Ok, I have no answer for that… But now what is your story time. What's with the good Slytherin business?" He finished off his drink and waved some sparks towards the bar for a refill. With a small noise and some smoke his empty bottle disappeared and a new one stood in front of him.

"Get me a firewhisky and we can talk." She ordered him, finishing her own drink.

"Sure. Was firewhisky red or blue sparks?" He looked around for the drink list on the table.

"I think it was red." She rubbed her eyes and her makeup smeared, before it magical set itself right again. Sam waved his wand once more and her empty beer bottle changed for a firewhisky and a new beer. "I didn't ask for the beer."

"No, but talking is a lot more fun, if you do not top over because of too much whisky. So now start." She didn't honor his words with a comment and drank the whisky in one shot. Sam crossed his arms until she started talking.

"I don't know if you noticed, but more Slytherins fought for You-know-who, than against him and the rest silently profited from you-know-who." She let her bottle dance on its rim between her hands.

"I never noticed…" Sam replied in a dry voice. She ignored his comment and continued.

"And once he lost, lots of people started scramble to save their hide because they don't want to go down with that ship. The whole Slytherin thing is now a huge black stain on the résumé, so many influential people got very fast to paint a different picture, by showing of the good Slytherins. And here I am shaking hands and being friends with the golden trio for the press and apparently every Slytherin that isn't a convicted Death Eater. There is only a limited among of affability in me for a day." The alcohol made her slur her words a bit.

"They are trying to rebrand house Slytherin. Filth always swims on top no matter what." He grunted back.

"This is still my house you are talking about." She fixed him with a hard stare.

"You still like them? Why? I mean you saw them being gigantic bigots and bastards. You are a good exception from them, but just an exception."

"This are my family and friends, the guys I cheered on at quidditch matches, the girls I giggled with at breakfast, the people I shared lessons with and gossiped about teachers." She ordered herself a new drink. "It wasn't their fight, so why should they fight? Or why should their lose so much for not fighting? Families who had been the backbone of our society for hundreds of years."

"How can you be so apathetic about this and forgive them so easily. I mean, you saw that what happened to those around you was wrong, right? What they thought about muggles? Why can't are you not angry that they didn't."

She looked at him with unfocused eyes. "Can I tell you a secret?", she whispered. When he nodded she continued. "I don't give a damn about muggles. Never met one. Not a bit interested in them. Couldn't care less what happens to them." She shrugged her shoulders.

"You don't?" It shocked him. It didn't fit into his worldview. "Then why?"

"Because I'm not stupid!" She looked at him as if that was obvious. "Things like that never work in the long run. When you need someone to hate to valuate you power, things get down hill fast once you got rid of that somebody. You have to find new people to blame for problems. And I had no interest to take my chance there."

"But it's not like you would ever suffer from it…"

" HA!" It was a dry laugh. "I will now tell you a huge secret about the honorable and old Burke family. I'm a half-blood. My mom had a rebellious phase in her youth and found herself a little muggle boy, but once she was pregnant things got all too real and the idea to leave the magical world was not acceptable for her. So she went back home. And here I was, not taking a half-blood chance in pueblood regime." She sing-sanged the last part.

"That's selfish."

"Of course it is. Nearly everybody was there for a selfish reason one way or another."

"That's not true!"

"Sure it is. You were there because they would kill you if they win. Every muggleblood was there because of that. Even Potter hadn't had a choice. It was die or fight for most of them. You could maybe make a case for Weasley and Longbottom, but even they would get the wrong end of wand as blood-traitors. Yes they cared about the muggle as well blabla, but they hadn't really had a choice. So why would my selfish reason worst than yours or anybody else?"

Sam didn't really have an answer to that. Her honesty impressed Sam in a strange way. It was strange; nothing of what she said so far could be called nice, but it made her in some way sympathetic.

"Do you want to leave those people behind and see if there is something interesting in the Diagon Ally?"

"Oh yes please."


End file.
